


The Twelve Days' Duel

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hoggywartyxmas, F/M, Inspired by A Christmas Carol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4644417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Minerva is in need of a little Christmas cheer, Filius comes through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Twelve Days' Duel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for atdelphi for hoggywartyxmas 2013. Filius took a few liberties here with the song and the dates; he wanted the finale on Christmas, rather than January 6, bless him. There are hints of Pottermore backstory here but I haven't taken all of it, nor is it a major part of the story so it's not necessary for understanding it.

Minerva McGonagall had a reputation to uphold. She was neither the youngest nor the newest teacher on staff, but when tenures tended towards the half-century mark, and most of the present staff had taught her as a student, one tended to feel young.   
  
This was why Minerva had carefully crafted her image to appear older and more respectable. She was an academic, a teacher of a difficult and demanding subject. There was no time for frivolity.   
  
Certainly not frivolity in the form of a partridge in a pear tree sitting in front of her spot at the staff table.   
  
"This is some truly brilliant conjuration," said Horace, examining the pears. "Did you do this, Minerva?"   
  
"I did not," she said. She had to admit to being impressed that the perpetrator had been able to refine the species of bird so accurately—it was more than a simple _Avis_ spell, which produced random, generic birds for most witches and wizards.   
  
Also, the pears were light and crisp, just as she liked them. She sliced one into her porridge and was pleased to find that it remained in existence until she had eaten every bite.   
  
The next day, there were turtle doves, two, perched on the back of her chair. Minerva had never seen a turtle dove outside of books, but she supposed these were also accurate copies.   
  
"It seems you have an admirer," Albus said, a twinkle in his eye. "Someone who knows his or her Muggle music, I would say."   
  
Minerva scanned the Great Hall for likely candidates. It was somewhat unnerving to eat breakfast with two birds perched behind her head, knowing as she did, that given the quality of the conjuration, it was entirely possible that the turtle doves would do as birds always seemed to do when they passed over Minerva's head.   
  
The only sort of birds Minerva liked to have at breakfast were in the form of eggs.   
  
The next morning, there were eggs, from three hens.   
  
"Ah, faverolles!" Albus exclaimed. "Your particular person appears to be a poultry expert as well."   
  
This made Minerva turn her attention to Professor Kettleburn, who blinked at her confusedly, a kipper in his mouth. No, it couldn't possibly be him.   
  
Regardless, Minerva sent the eggs down to the house-elves and enjoyed a delicious frittata at lunch, which was blessedly bird-free.   
  
There were blackbirds the next day, four of them.   
  
"I thought they were supposed to be calling birds," Professor Merrythought said.   
  
Now embarrassed that she had not thought of it herself, Minerva tried to remember the rest of the words to the song, while Dumbledore explained that the line was actually colly birds, which referenced the Common Blackbird.   
  
She took this opportunity to look up and down the staff table to see if anyone gave any indication of already knowing this. She determined that everyone looked either fascinated or utterly bored.   
  
It was time, she decided to think seriously about potential candidates. She could rule Albus out almost immediately—while this was certainly the sort of thing he would do, she imagined his attentions would be more likely directed to Horace than to her (though there was always the possibility of Albus helping the mystery conjurer).   
  
Horace was out, unless his unfamiliarity with Muggle Christmas carols was an act of misdirection. Not to mention the fact that he couldn't keep a secret to save his life and if he'd come up with such a clever idea himself, he surely wouldn't be able to conceal it until the appointed day.   
  
Kettleburn would not have settled for such mundane creatures as turtle doves. No, Minerva thought, if they couldn't take an arm off then they wouldn't be good enough for the object of his affections.   
  
She could dismiss Professor Merrythought, as Albus and Horace were still trying to explain about colly birds, directly into her ear trumpet.   
  
Minerva would have to make a list to determine who to confront.  
  
She was leaving the Great Hall to return to her office when Albus stopped her.   
  
"Minerva, my dear," he began, and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he meant something serious. "It seems that this is bothering you. I understand that the past few Christmases have not been the happiest for you, but I assure you that this is being done out of genuine admiration."   
  
Minerva raised an eyebrow. "So you know who it is?"  
  
Albus simply smiled. "I suggest you make the most of it and keep an open mind."   
  
The next day, there were five gold rings of light hovering over Minerva's place at the table. It was a pretty charm and when she sat down they flew about and changed color. When they vanished, an opal ring dropped onto the table beside Minerva's plate.   
  
It was quite beautiful and very real. She slipped it on her finger and admired the way the stone glittered in the winter sunlight filtering in through the high windows.  
  
"Thank you," she said to no one in particular. "It's beautiful."   
  
On the sixth day, Minerva knew what to expect and so did her admirer. The geese were there, but the eggs they were supposed to be a-laying were already an omelet. He must have noticed the vigor with which Minerva had devoured the frittata.   
  
"Ketchup, Filius?" Albus said genially.   
  
Minerva turned her head just in time to see Filius Flitwick liberally dousing a goose-egg omelet with ketchup.   
  
Aha! She had her man.   
  
Two could play at this game.   
  
Minerva got up early to get into place and she was rather pleased with the results. It was quite a difficult charm and she'd looked through several very old books in the Restricted Section to find it. It relied on a similar principle to the Patronus Charm, but one could control the animal one produced.   
  
She wished she had a camera to record Filius's expression when the seven swans sailed through the Hall. She had caught him before he was ready and it was well worth the late night in the library she had put in.   
  
As the swans glided about the ceiling, he locked eyes on her and smiled merrily. She might enjoy the rest of the holidays quite a bit.  
  
The next day was the traditional day for maids a-milking. Minerva decided to let Filius have that one, if only because she wondered what he would do. Fresh eggs were one thing, but Minerva didn't think fresh milk would go over as well.   
  
It turned out to be a similar charm to the swans—ethereal maids gliding above the tables, their cows trotting dutifully along behind them, complete with clanging bells. The students looked up in awe.   
  
"What a lovely Christmas!" a first-year Gryffindor girl exclaimed. "It's really magic!"  
  
Minerva suppressed a smile. Perhaps Filius really was on to something.  
  
After that, it became rather like a pleasant duel. Filius summoned every lady, painted, woven, or otherwise from the castle artwork to dance in the Great Hall's tapestries.   
  
This gave Minerva an idea that she couldn't pass up, and a quick consultation with the Captain of the Guard ensured that it would happen.   
  
On the morning of the twenty-third of December, the Great Hall doors were flung open by an unseen force and suits of armor came leaping in in two lines. They were even more impressive in person than Minerva had imagined. Even the loud clanking didn't detract from their dance; it was almost like percussion. For his part, Filius looked very impressed, which pleased her.   
  
The students loved it and Minerva vowed to talk to the armor more often. Who knew what else they could do?  
  
There were two days left and it came time for Minerva to consider what to do next. Were they taking turns? And what would the next step be?  
  
Filius's pipers piping were ghosts hired for the occasion. They passed in through each of the four walls and played a medley of Christmas carols throughout breakfast. It didn't escape Minerva's notice that many students and some staff didn't appreciate the sounds of the Highlands, but Minerva certainly did.   
  
Filius couldn't have known the memories the music would conjure up for her. Many of them were indeed painful, but as she let the music wash over her, she felt the happier ones bubble to the surface.   
  
_Thank you_ , she mouthed at Filius and he flashed her a warm smile. She was almost disappointed that this would be coming to an end the next day.  
  
Minerva got up early on Christmas morning. At the foot of her bed were presents—a beautiful tartan sash from her mother, books from Albus and all sorts of things from school friends who'd moved all over the world.   
  
The last box had no card, but Minerva expected she knew who it was from. It was a finely-wrought silver brooch. She fastened it onto her sash when she dressed for dinner in the Great Hall.  
  
The Christmas Feast was well-attended; Minerva had noticed more students staying than was usual and she supposed they wanted to see the grand finale.   
  
There was an air of anticipation throughout the meal and Minerva kept glancing nervously towards the Great Hall doors, hoping this would go as well as it had two days ago.  
  
As the pudding course was winding down, the sound of drums could be heard outside the doors. Pringle went to open them and was nearly bowled over the marching suits of armor. Minerva smiled, grateful that the Captain had offered his troop's services again.   
  
Filius caught her eye and beamed warmly. Minerva was about to wonder why, when the rising sound of the pipes reached her ears. The ghosts in kilts again returned to the hall, floating above the heads of the marching drummers, soon falling into a very familiar and highly relevant tune. Minerva's smile widened to what could almost be termed a grin. She had anticipated this and was very relieved she and Filius were of one mind.   
  
She gave the signal and the remaining suits of armor came leaping into the Hall, replicating their earlier dance. The dancing ladies returned to the tapestry and the Fat Lady of Gryffindor Tower waved merrily at Minerva before pulling her friend Violet into a vigorous jig. Clearly, they had been at the sherry.   
  
They alternated in their casting—Minerva replicated Filius's charm to create the maids, Filius's swans gliding behind them. It took quite a bit of concentration to keep it all going while they worked their way through the rings and the birds, but Minerva relished the challenge. It had been far too long since she'd really exercised her magical talents and it highlighted to her how much she really did belong in this world.   
  
Filius brought it to a close, conjuring a magnificent pear tree, even larger than the one on the first day. The partridge fluttered out and landed on Minerva's hand, as the whole school finished the song and burst into applause.   
  
Perhaps the situation had indeed called for frivolity.   
  


**

  
  
After the Feast, Filius caught up to Minerva in the Entrance Hall. It was the first time they'd really spoken since this had all and she had been anticipating this.   
  
"Really splendid work, Minerva, I must say." He was beaming like a schoolboy. "I didn't expect you to join in, but I think we've made a really good team."   
  
She nodded. "I agree. And I really must thank you, Filius, for giving me something so wonderful this Christmas. I had needed some fun, I now realize. I appreciate it."   
  
"Well! When can one have fun if not at Christmas?" He reached out to take her hand. It was rather smaller than hers, but she found she didn't mind. "I do admire you, Minerva. I have since we were in school. I hope you won't think this forward of me—I don't mean to put you on the spot. I just wanted to have a bit of fun."   
  
"No, Filius, it was wonderful." She squeezed his hand "I can't say I feel the same way, but I am certainly not opposed to exploring the possibility and getting to know you better."   
  
If it was possible, Filius's grin widened. "Lovely!" he exclaimed. "Would you like to join me in the Three Broomsticks tomorrow afternoon?"   
  
Minerva pushed away her instinct to stop and figure out if she had marking or patrolling to do. "Absolutely. I would love to."


End file.
